


Life's a Drag

by yearofmeteors



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Crossdressing, M/M, Praise Kink, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3844417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yearofmeteors/pseuds/yearofmeteors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike's self-hazing ritual had stranger consequences then he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's a Drag

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Always and forever hesitant about crossdressing as a term, but it's the best tag there is for this, considering that this is very much about Mike in traditional female attire. Crossdressing is a weird term, especially when makeup and dresses aren't neccesarily women's wear, and that's not even looking at the violent history of the word. So I tried to be conscientious of the history and varieties of experience of gender performance in this piece. Mike very much feels that dresses and lacy underthings aren't exclusively for women. Nor do people need to wear them to be considered women. He just likes to dress feminine, I like it when he does, and I'd like to think Joel is a fan as well. All in all, despite this serious disclaimer, this is just a fun and dirty piece about Mike and black lace.
> 
> Setting the Stage: Mike's been marooned with Joel after the escape plan in 512: Mitchell goes awry. The story itself begins with the self-hazing debacle in 605: Kitten with a Whip. Then there's a reference to Mike's Carol Channing situation and Dr. Forrester's near-death experience in 619: Red Zone Cuba.

Joel thought he was having a heart-attack the first time he saw Mike in drag. It was some sort of self-hazing thing. He had been in the dark about the whole ordeal until Mike came out with his nose pierced and that insane outfit on. Joel did manage to stop Mike from drinking witch hazel, but only barely. His mind had stuttered and stopped when Mike mentioned a full-body shave, a phrase that made Joel immediately think of Mike’s body. In detail. He only snapped out of it when he noticed Mike raising the bottle to take a swig.

Joel clasped his hand around Mike’s to lower the bottle. “Mike, honey, you didn’t have to do this. If you’d told me, I’d’ve said you didn’t have to.” He could still hear the bots screaming as they ran away, content with leaving Joel to deal with the insanity of Mike in an 18th century dress and powdered wig.

“I don’t know, I wanted it to be a surprise.” Mike pouted. It was an expression that was more dangerous than it usually was due to lipstick and curls.

“You don’t have to prove yourself, man.” Joel looked down, breaking eye contact, and startled when he noticed that he still had his hand on Mike’s. He lifted his hand, paused awkwardly for a moment then decided to mess with the ruffles on the collar of Mike’s dress instead. Which in hindsight wasn’t the best decision. “We even baked you cupcakes.” He looked up at Mike through his eyelashes.

Mike mumbled indistinctly and played with one of the banana curls on his wig. Joel felt slightly hypnotized, his mind screaming images of Mike’s dress hitched up around his waist and wig askew. He shook himself out of it and withdrew his hand from the collar of Mike’s dress, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t have to keep wearing this Mike, you’ve done well for a hazing ritual. Really. A good job Mike.” Joel cringed internally when he realized he had slipped into a voice he hadn’t used in years. Mike was just asking for praise and Joel was having a hard time keeping himself from giving Mike what he wanted. He hated to tell Mike he could take the thing off, but the last thing he wanted was for Mike to be uncomfortable. The whole point of hazing was that it caused discomfort, so that was probably why Mike chose this particular form of hazing. Right? But Mike didn’t strike him as the type to get too squeamish about gender presentation. Joel’s brain hurt.

“Oh okay.” Mike looked dazed. “Alright. Yeah.” He gave a little shake of his head and blinked a couple of times. His face transformed from distinctly vulnerable and back into a familiar expression of wry humor. “Yeah, I’ll go and . . .” He smirked, looking confident despite everything. He gave an effeminate giggle, put a banana curl in his mouth and leered at Joel before walking away with a swagger in his step.

Joel just stood there, mouth agape. He stared at the silhouette of Mike in that dress as he walked . . . no . . . _strutted_ away. The unnatural curve of Mike’s torso in particular sparked a memory. He had seen this costume before, somewhere on Bay 15 when he had first gotten marooned on the Satellite of Love. His brain began to shut down when he realized what it was. There was a corset that went with that dress.

Mike was wearing a corset.

Joel choked. That was a bit more arousing than he thought it should be. Either way he was heading to his bunk. Fast.

.................................................................................................................................

About a week after the Mads had somehow gotten their hands on a copy of his failed self-hazing ritual, a box marked specifically for him arrived with the rest of their resupply. Joel made noises to give him privacy when he saw it, but Mike wasn’t as sure. He hadn’t gotten a box like this before, so who knew what the hell was going to be in there. “Eh, why don’t you stay on hand in case it’s like a bomb or something?”

Joel smiled lazily, looking very much unconvinced there was anything dangerous in the box. “Sure, honey.” He said. That particular speech quirk still made Mike’s heart flip even after a whole year on the Satellite of Love. The bots would say honey sometimes, and Mike himself had picked up the term of endearment. But ‘honey’ coming directly from Joel’s mouth was a completely different story.

He cautiously opened the box with a bored Joel watching over his shoulder. After a tense moment Mike laughed, finding that it was full of dresses. On closer inspection, there were several wigs, a good supply of makeup, and even some lingerie in there as well. Joel wrote it off as the Mads’ way of ragging on Mike for his self-hazing stunt. All Mike could think about was putting aside the time to try everything out.

The thing was, he didn’t do drag for a laugh.

Well, he did _drag_ for a laugh. But mostly he squeezed himself in frilly skirts and put on a full face of makeup because he legitimately enjoyed it. He looked damn good and the ritual of it was nice. Drag was just a good excuse for getting all made up on the regular. He felt like there wasn’t a point to going through all the effort if someone wasn’t going to be around to appreciate your skill and hard work. Besides, he liked the stage if you really pushed him to it, so drag just made sense.

The box, courtesy of Dr. Forrester, was more exciting than it should’ve been. But he hadn’t gotten his hands on a good set of makeup brushes and dresses since his time on Earth. Hell, on Earth he rarely had enough money to get this kind of stuff.

But this stuff. . .

This stuff was top tier.

Dr. Forrester had either really enjoyed Mike’s curl biting, or he had recently kidnapped a professional drag queen. This particular haul was nothing short of magical.

He made pleased noises at the box, too wrapped up in his excitement to do much more then nod at Joel. He made his way to Bay 15-c, where he had already stashed all the drag attire he could find on the S.O.L. It was time to make the place into a dressing room, another hobby delegated to another endless array of unused rooms on the ship.

Somewhere in the back of his head he realized that Joel probably didn’t know what he got up to in his spare time. He wasn’t ashamed of his predilection for dresses, but he just never felt the need to bring it up. He’d say, “I’m gonna be in Bay 15-c if you need me,” and go on about his makeup routine, just as much as he would say, “I’m gonna be in E3 on Deck 2 if you need me,” when he was going to work on his musical adaptation of _Jurassic Park_. Joel didn’t know about either project because Mike just didn’t elaborate on what he was actually doing.

..................................................................................................................................

Joel knew Mike had told him that he was going to be somewhere in Bay 15 for the afternoon. He had tried to reach him on the ship’s com to ask if he had a request for dinner but he wasn’t getting a response. Actually, he hadn’t gotten a response in about two hours. It was probably nothing, but Mike was usually on top of things like that. So he decided to wander down to Bay 15 and see what was up. Besides, Mike was always somewhere doing something in the ship and Joel was curious as to what it was. He himself was busy working on inventions for each week’s exchange, or fiddling with his bigger engineering projects. But Mike wasn’t as keen on engineering as Joel was. He was an artistic minded guy, for all his corn-fed all-American white-bread-ness. It nagged at the back of Joel’s mind what Mike could possibly be doing down here with all this time and space on his hands.

He was probably thinking way too hard about it. In general he felt that in the past year he had been thinking an awful lot about Mike. But that only made sense considering he was the only other human up here with him. Who the hell else was he supposed to be thinking about?

But the drag incident . . . well he tried not to think about that too much for all the good it did him. The thought of Mike in a corset was close to undoing him completely. How was he supposed to focus on anything other than Mike after that?

His mind was wandering down the same Mike-tinted paths as he made his way through Bay 15. He knew Mike had told him what letter room he was in, but Joel hadn’t retained that bit of information. The letter was actually vaguely important information to retain. Instead various weird and seemingly insignificant Mike-things had burned themselves into his brain. It was ridiculous.

Joel realized that there was a steady beat resounding throughout the bay. He followed it to the doors of Bay 15-c. No wonder Mike hadn’t answered the com, there was no way he could hear the signal over the blare of music. Joel cocked his head as he realized it wasn’t the rock music he for some reason had expected. It was . . . electro swing?

What kind of kitsch genre bullshit was Mike listening to? The doors wooshed open and -

“Uhhhh. . .Mike?”

..................................................................................................................................

He hit on the perfect outfit after a smaller box was sent up about a week after Red Zone Cuba. There had been a note stuck inside that read:

_After all the stuff I sent up, you think you could do better than **that**!_

_Maybe you’re just too high class for the last batch. Maybe this will encourage your high maintenance ass to give us a good show._

_–Dr. Forrester_

He didn’t know he would have such a discriminating audience. He really loved the wig, and maybe he had jumped the gun a bit. But really, none of the dresses had fit correctly right out of the box so that meant they needed alterations and . . . he didn’t need to justify anything to Dr. Forrester. Hell he didn’t even think the man would’ve cared what he was wearing considering he had been under the weather that particular week. And the thinly veiled threat didn’t even phase him. He had done more scandalous things in drag shows back on Earth than Dr. Forrester probably expected out of him.

The box in question was suspiciously full of two tailored black dresses. Forrester had probably gotten Mike’s exact measurements at some point, which wasn’t all too surprising, if a little invasive. Of all the things to use them for though, this was probably the least devious.

So he carted the thing to Bay 15-c, put on the appropriate music, opened up the lingerie drawer, and got to work.

When he first hit on this hobby of his he had gone for the whole enchilada, shaving and waxing methodically, tucking carefully, and investing in a nice-fitting padded bra. Nowadays he reserved the last two for drag shows, forgoing tucking and the padded bra when he wasn’t performing, and completely passing over the first step for both circumstances. Dresses and makeup and lingerie and heels were not specifically for women and there was no reason for him to mess with what he was perfectly fine with. He was a hairy man in a dress. A good looking hairy man in a dress. No shame in that. Hell, women could be just as hairy and less endowed on top as he was, and be just as much of a woman.

Gender was just a wacky thing in general.

The lingerie in the latest shipment was black and lacy and Mike was only slightly skeeved out that Forrester had probably picked it out especially for him and everything. And it only got him _moderately_ ( _irrationally_ ) hot and bothered thinking about the long nights Dr. Forrester had to pull in order to get Mike black lace garter belts in his size and build, as well as satin and lace panties for the well-endowed. His eye twitched. He rubbed at his face and refocused on the task at hand.

He carefully slipped the panties on, tucking himself just so into the black satin. He fastened the garter belt around his waist and gently pulled the fishnet stockings up his legs. Because he didn’t shave his legs for this, fishnet was usually the best bet for comfort. (How in god’s name Dr. Forrester had known was a mystery.) He clipped the suspenders to the stockings and slipped his feet into some slippers so the soles of the stockings wouldn’t get roughed up by the floor. He settled in front of his impromptu vanity, pushed his hair into a wig cap and began to work on his face, right foot tapping to the beat of the music.

After finishing his look by fixing his long, wavy, dark blond wig to his liking he went over to the clothing rack. He looked closely at the two black dresses Forrester had sent up. The man had a devious mind. One was a 1950’s pinup style dress: [a long tight pencil skirt and halter top with faux shirt collar](http://www.sinderellas-shrine.co.uk/sale-hell-bunny-mrs-johnson-black-pinstripe-pencil-dress-xs-1104-p.asp). The other showed more skin, but it was nowhere near as tight. [It had a short flared skirt and open back, the front featuring a high neckline](http://laurenconrad.com/blog/2012/01/style-guide-birthday-outfits-101/). Mike was drawn to the second one and took it off the hanger. He stepped out of his slippers and into the dress, managing to zip it up on his own. The stockings just barely made it past the hem of the skirt. He selected a pair of simple black knock-off Christian Louboutin’s with ankle straps to complete the look.

He checked his lipstick one last time before stepping back and looking at himself in the full length mirror. He looked killer. Black head to toe with a hint of red in the lips and shoes and luscious locks laying on his shoulders. It was almost a sin that no one was going to get to see it. Yet anyways. Best to let Forrester see, or he’d be risking the stakes getting higher.

. . . Maybe the stockings needed a little adjustment. He hitched up the skirt of the dress so he could see what he was doing, and started to re-clip the stocking on his right leg to the garter belt.

He barely heard the woosh of the door over the music.

...................................................................................................................................................

Joel felt his whole body go into cardiac arrest. Mike was in a dress again. And not just any dress either. Enacting Joel’s fantasy life was apparently what Mike had been up to in Bay 15-c.

Mike had hitched up the skirt of the dress and all Joel could focus on was the way the stockings hugged his thighs and the edge of his panties highlighted his ass. He must’ve made a noise like a dying dog because Mike’s head snapped up. His long hair shifted and bounced making him look like he had walked out of a naughty magazine from the 1950s.

“Joel?” Mike was frozen in place, hands paused suggestively around his right thigh. _[(For the Curious Reader)](http://elvgrenpinup.com/images/modest_maneuver_1_.jpg)_

“Mike?” Joel croaked again. Mike could probably see just how well Joel was taking this development. He was practically busting out of his jumpsuit he was so hard. “For a skit, yeah?” He said as smoothly as he could.

“No, not really.” Mike blinked. “I just like to dress like this. . .” His face was flushed. He slowly moved, straightening up after he finished clipping his stocking to the garter belt. His eyes widened as he tracked Joel’s body, pausing at his bulge before moving on.

“Joel?” He brushed his dress out across his thighs with hands visibly shaking. The loose skirt didn’t fall as smoothly as Joel suspected it should, instead it caught on the beginning of Mike’s erection.

“Heh, Mike, I . . .” Joel dragged his eyes up from Mike’s crotch to meet his eyes. “You look good.” He said, licking his lips.

“Thanks . . . I already kind of guessed you liked it.” Mike gestured awkwardly towards Joel’s crotch while his other hand played nervously at the hem of his dress.

“Yeah, been thinking about this, for a while.” Joel leered. Might as well be upfront about it. They had been dancing around this for a year now anyways.

That must have triggered something because all of a sudden Mike transformed in front of his eyes. He knew Mike had it into him to really embrace a part, but this was unprecendented. His posture changed from a defensive slouch into a tall murderess, his hands sliding up his thighs to settle on his hips. His self-deprecating smile shifted into a devestating smirk. He moved in on Joel, legs long and deadly in his heels. His body hair was somehow more erotic than it usually was. It might’ve been the way the dress showed off his arms and legs, the unfamiliar shiloutette highlighting things Joel had only vaguely realized about Mike, after all the time his body was hidden under a jumpsuit.

Mike backed him up against the wall, towering over him. He put one arm against the wall by Joel’s head, leaning into his personal space, he fingered Joel’s jumpsuit collar with his other hand. “You like me in dresses Joel?” He asked with a leer.

“Yeah.” Joel breathed. Now this was better than any fantasy.

“Is that all you can say, big boy?” Mike slowly drew down the zipper of Joel’s jumpsuit. Joel shivered. Fucking finally.

“Hmmm . . . I think I can do better than that.” Joel took him by the waist and switched places, pushing Mike against the wall and sliding to his knees in front of him. If they were really going to do this, then Joel wasn’t going to spend another second without Mike’s cock in his mouth.

“Oh fuck yeah Joel, are you . . .”

Joel nodded, smiling. He pushed the dress up, revealing Mike’s soaked [panties.](https://xdress.com/product/view/satin-portland-garter-z431) He was leaking precome already. Mike scrabbled for the hem of the dress, taking it from Joel’s hands and hiking it up around his hips. His cock was hard, straining against the damp satin. His pubic hair spilled over the top of the panties in a lurid way. Joel almost whined at the sight.

“Jesus Mike.” Joel fingered the top of his stockings, running his hands along the suspenders and tracing the line of the garter belt. Mike’s stomach jumped at the contact. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Joel, please.” Mike bit his lip, hips canting up. Joel wanted to give in, he had fantisized about sucking Mikes cock more than was probably healthy. But hearing Mike beg was sending Joel into a headspace he hadn’t been in for six years. He held on to Mike’s hips, keeping him pinned to the wall.

“Be good, Mike.” He growled. He was already slipping into his dominant persona. Mike was just like candy to him. He had spent too many late nights fucking into his fist at the thought of telling Mike what a good boy he was. Of course he was going to slip up.

Mike groaned, a dazed smile on his face, hips stuttering against Joel’s grip. “Oh fuck. What –”

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to slip up like that.

“Mike.” Joel said sharply, testing the waters. “I’m gonna suck your cock honey, but you need to stay still.”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Mike sounded dazed, smile still plastered on his face, cheeks flushed. “I’ll try.”

“Mmmm, that’s all I ask sweetheart.” Joel rubbed at Mike’s hipbones with his thumbs, eyes trained on Mike’s face.

“Jesus.” Mike’s hands flexed around the fabric of the skirt of his dress. “Jesus Christ.”

“You like it when I call you sweetheart?” Joel asked before leaning forward and breathing lightly on the wet patch forming on Mike’s panties.

“Uh huh. Yeah I do. Love when you . . . tell me how good I’ve been.” Mike whimpered. Joel wanted to choke himself on Mike’s cock at the sound of those words. They implied Mike got off on Joel’s praise already.

“That’s a good boy.” Joel hummed, trying to center himself. He mouthed at his cock through the satin. Mike cursed, shuddering underneath Joel. He rubbed his cheek against the bulge, looking up at Mike through lidded eyes. If he wasn’t careful he was going to come in his pants before this was all over.

“Say it again.” Mike moaned, his body shaking from the effort of keeping himself from rutting against Joel’s face.

“Mmmmm.” Joel licked against Mike’s cock. “Say what again?” This was fantastic.

“Tell me I’m a good boy.” Mike’s voice was strained. “Please, Joel.”

“If you promise me to try and keep still while I get your panties off.”

“Hah, well don’t say stuff like that then.” Mike grinned.

Joel laughed, lifting his hands gently from Mike’s hips.  He slipped the panties over his cock and down his thighs just enough to give him access but still high enough to keep Mike’s legs trapped.

He looked up at Mike and leered, “Good boy,” not waiting for a response before he wrapped his mouth around the tip of Mike’s cock, hands flying to his hips, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck.” Mike struggled against Joel’s hands, head hitting the wall. “Fuck.”

Joel took his time. Mike’s cock was even better than he imagined and he wasn’t going to waste any of it. He went slow, Mike quickly becoming a whimpering mess under his hands and mouth. It made it all the sweeter as he slid his mouth all the way down to the root and swallowed. He was good at this. He loved it. He loved it even more when it was Mike’s thick cock on his tongue.

Mike shouted nonsense as Joel sucked him down, nose brushing at his pubic hair, hands digging into his hips. He ran his mouth up and back down, varying his pace, not wanting Mike to get too close, not yet. He wanted more, more of the taste, the smell of Mike. He played at the head of his cock, tonguing the slit before sliding back down and swallowing again and again. He knew Mike was trying to be a good boy. Such a good boy, keeping his hips as still as he could. And Joel still had one more trick up his sleeve to reward him for it. He slid his hands up to where Mike was clutching at his skirt and covered them. He looked up to meet Mike’s eyes and hummed around his cock. Mike choked, and Joel could feel his muscles spasm under his hands, trying not to fuck into Joel’s mouth. Joel pulled off slowly, rubbing Mike’s hands. “Let go of your dress, honey.” He purred. Mike whimpered and carefully unclenched his fists from the fabric. Joel pressed his hands into the skirt, keeping it up as Mike let go. “In my hair.” He said and Mike complied, shaking. “That’s a good boy.” Mike’s hands involuntarily clenched at his hair. Joel huffed a laugh. “Now, a good boy like you deserves a treat.” He smiled up at Mike. “Fuck my mouth darling.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, Joel are you . . .” Mike groaned. “Fucking hell . . .”

“Mmmmm, yes honey.” Joel mumbled happily before settling his mouth around Mike’s cock again. Mike shifted carefully, thrusting slow and shallow into Joel’s mouth. Joel hummed, rubbing circles with his thumbs into Mike’s skin through the fabric of the skirt, letting him know it was okay to let loose. Mike quickly grew bolder and soon he was fucking Joel’s mouth in earnest. Joel’s eyes fell closed and he moaned, this was what we had been waiting for. Mike gripped his hair tighter, pistoning his hips, and Joel was so close. So close.

“Joel, fuck, so good.” Mike blabbered on, voice low and rough. “Are you . . .”

With the half question Joel was brought back into himself. He realized he was thrusting desperately into thin air in time with Mike’s thrusts. And all of a sudden, just as the question registered, something solid pushed against his cock. His eyes snapped open and he saw Mike smiling down at him. “Rub off against my shoes?”

Joel’s mouth spasmed around Mike’s cock, hips pressing up against the sole of Mike’s heel. He hummed an affirmation, tears leaking from his eyes. He rutted against Mike’s foot, struggling to keep his gaze locked with Mike’s as his mouth was fucked.

He whimpered around Mike’s cock as he realized what he really needed to get off. He pushed against Mike’s hands in his hair and was immediately let go. He slid slowly off Mike’s cock, savoring one last taste. “Come on my face, sweetheart.” He said, voice wrecked.

“Fuck.” Mike’s hands clenched in the air. “Really?”

“Come on honey. Need you to do this for me.” Joel kept a steady pace of his hips against Mike’s heel, fingers digging into the fabric of Mike’s dress. “Can you do this for me, Mike?” He asked, voice with an edge of a demand.

“Yeah, Joel. Yeah.” Mike’s right hand settled on his cock while the other buried itself in Joel’s hair. Joel stretched up and rubbed his cheek against the head of Mike’s cock. “Jesus Christ Joel.” Mike jacked himself off against his face.

“Come on, honey. So good for me. Such a good boy. You can do this for me, yes?” Joel rambled praise as he rubbed himself off desperately against Mike’s heel. “Pretty boy, do as you’re told.” He hoped he hadn’t gone too far, but the words spilled out of his mouth at the perfect sight and sound of Mike falling apart at the seams, dressed in black satin and shaking.

“Joel, say it again, please. Joel, please.” Mike moaned, hand spasming around his cock, the head of it smearing precome across Joel’s cheek.

“Do as you’re told and come for me, pretty boy.” Joel gasped, eyes closing as he neared the edge. He stuttered once, twice, and pressed his cock tight against the sole of Mike’s heel as streaks of come hit his face, running down his cheek and into his open mouth.

Joel came with the taste of Mike on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was my first fic ever for this fandom, still haven't watched all the eps yet, but I needed this to exist in the world.
> 
> Sequel coming to a computer near you...


End file.
